Page 43 of Naked Coffee Guy

“But what?” She slips her hands out of mine, then sips my/her Coke, waiting for a real explanation.

I don’t want to bring it up. I should bring it up. I should tell her about my role in her reason for being there that night. But looking at her, the way her eyes shine as she waits for my explanation, I just can’t.

“That night at Torches,” I finally say, swallowing the rest of it, “the wine.”

Her face flushes, and I regret saying anything.

“It was a mistake,” she says, “One I haven’t made since I stopped drinking.”

“But you almost did this time. If you can do it once, I don’t want to be the reason you do again.”

She reaches over and squeezes my hand.

“It was a bad night. It doesn’t excuse what I almost did, especially when there will be other bad nights, I’m sure. In this instance, there were other steps I could have taken instead of ending up at a bar with a drink in my hand. But I can promise you that I am fine sitting with you while you enjoy a beer or two. I’m fine with soda, I actually prefer it.” She takes another sip, and my cock twitches at the way her red mouth wrap around that straw. She finishes, then lightly licks the moisture from her lips.

“You’re such a brat,” I growl with a grin. She winks, then looks up as the waitress brings our burgers. Maren doesn’t even hesitate. She picks up her dripping burger, almost the size of her head, and sinks her teeth in it.

“Fuck,” she breathes, “That’s better than sex.”

“Doubtful.” I do the same, and fuck yes, that burger is good. But sex with Maren will always be best.

Back in the car, I take a moment to check my phone. I felt it buzz in my pocket during our meal, but we were close to being done so I chose to wait. My mind has been on it ever since though, knowing it could be the nurse on shift.

Which it is. Fuck. I click the button to listen to the voicemail.

“Hi Mr. Dermot. This is Anna. Benji is fine, so don’t worry (I breathe a sigh of relief), but he’s been combative. He keeps asking for you, and I was hoping you could come by if you have the time.”

I hang up the phone and pinch the space between my eyes as the guilt settles firmly in my stomach.

“Everything okay?” Maren asks.

I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. But before I do anything, I need to swing by Benji’s.”

The fact that I haven’t been there in more than a day is unacceptable. He’s nearing the end of his life, just inches from leaving this earth, and here I am chasing tail.

I also realize I cannot take Maren to Benji’s house. It’s bad enough she’s with me, but I was just following orders—Benji’s orders. It would be cruel to take her to meet the man who not only sold her home so it could be destroyed, but he’s also responsible for everything that went wrong in that apartment. Rather, all the things he never took care of.

I owe Benji. She does not.

“Can I drop you off somewhere?” I ask.

Maren’s mouth opens, and the silence sinks between us. She closes her mouth, and her eyes narrow.

“No, I’m fine.” She reaches for the door handle, but I grab onto her wrist. “Let go of me,” she growls, yanking her hand away, then she opens the door and steps out. I’m out of the car and at her side in seconds.

“It’s Benji,” I say. Her face softens for a fraction of a second but disappears under her icy stare. “He’s in a state, and I really don’t want to bring you around him while he’s like this. From the nurse’s tone, I have a feeling I’ll be there the rest of the day.”

This time when she softens, she stays that way. She smiles and shakes her head. “I’m being stupid,” she says, “This isn’t even supposed to be anything, and I keep acting like some possessive girlfr—” She catches herself before saying the word, though I’m still affected.

Girlfriend. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t even tell her the goddamn truth—that I know she lost her home, that I already knew she was sober, that I have heard her songs long before she was on stage.

That the reason I know all of this is because I owned her apartment building, sold it without warning, then reduced it to rubble, knowing full well that she, along with all those families, would never be able to find a place that would match the rent they were paying.

“It’s fine,” I say, and I pretend I don’t notice the flash of hurt that crosses her face. “Can I drive you somewhere?”

“Tell you what, Benji lives in Holland Heights, right?”

“How did you…oh.” I laugh, remembering how she almost ran me over with her car when I was out for a run. The girl has amazing deduction skills. “Yeah, he does.”